


Five Times Ian Gallagher Drops The K-Bomb

by stars_fall_on



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/pseuds/stars_fall_on
Summary: Ian wants kids. And he's trying to let Mickey know as subtly as possible. Except that Ian isn't subtle. Not at all.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 50
Kudos: 286





	Five Times Ian Gallagher Drops The K-Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little distraction for you!
> 
> Thank you @Nicrenkel for being my beta! *mwah*
> 
> Enjoy <3

"Gallaghers are brave. Gallaghers are strong. They are fighters. Gallaghers are clever and sneaky. They manipulate you to get what they want."

That's what's being said about the family he's married into. And it almost fits the annoying bunch of idiots he's learned to call his family. It just doesn't relate to his husband, though. At least, not the sneaky part of it. 

Ian may think he's clever, manipulating Mickey the way he wants without being obvious about his reasons, but actually he's not. Not at all. He's just a huge dork that wears his feelings on his sleeve for the world to see. In Mickey's eyes, anyway. He's able to read his ginger sap like an open book. 

That's why it's so easy for him to fulfill every one of Ian's wishes and gets dicked good and hard afterwards. A bonus, when you can never get enough of those heavenly nine inches. 

This time, however, Mickey found himself in a way more complicated situation than he has wished for. They talked about this topic beforehand - _theoretically_. Mickey thought he swept the issue with his shady answer from the table once and for all. Just... seems like he didn't, though. 

He doesn't react on Ian's 'sneaky' hint after he drops the first bomb. It takes a few more before Mickey is forced to kick into action, and face the wish Ian so obviously craves. Only this time he doesn't know if he can give him what he wants, even if it's killing him. 

Knowing exactly how his hot-headed husband is going to react, Mickey decides to play it cool and not tell him what happened. He'll think of a plan and try to get rid of this bastard on his own. Ian always gets so riled up whenever they talk about the prick of his father, and he doesn't need that right now. He has enough of shit to deal with at work, since his new PO found out about their wedding. Turns out, he's a harmless but nevertheless homophobic prick, giving Ian a hard time with dumbass jokes that his husband has to swallow for the sake of his probation. Plus, Mickey is already done with a nerve wrecking conversation on his own. Nope. He's not going there. He just wants to get boned. 

He takes the last steps up to the Gallagher house that, with Ian living there, quickly became a home to him and swings the door to the kitchen open, finding Debbie and his man sitting across the table, eating Fruit Loops. If his husband wasn't the hottest motherfucker on earth, with his dark skinny jeans and his grey hoodie, he would look fucking ridiculous with the milk dribbling from his chin. Mickey wants to lick it. 

"What's wrong?" The worried sound of his lover's voice cuts through the silence that swept in with his arrival. 

"The fuck?" His eyebrows shoot up high in irritation. He hasn't even stepped fully inside, when Ian already sensed the foul smack he brought with him. 

"What happened, Mickey?" Ian's up in the next second and in his way to the fridge. Fucking redhead, he just wants a beer. 

"Nothing's wrong," he creases his forehead, trying to shrug as nonchalantly as possible while giving his best unconcerned impression. 

But Ian only has to raise one red brow at him before he knows he's lost the battle. 

"Mickey? Talk!" 

He surrenders, but not without a fucking beer in hand. Sighing in defeat, he sidesteps his husband and walks over to the fridge, grabbing himself a bottle and settling in the stool beside Debbie. "My dad," he starts, his eyes darting nervously to Ian to gauge his reaction, his man already bristling with anger at this word alone, "he made a move on Sandy." 

"WHAT?" the two gingers yell simultaneously, Debbie shooting out of her stool and knocking it over in the process. 

"Calm your tits, Peppermint Patty. Nothing happened."

The right redhead steps closer, his face clearly enraged. Mickey knows exactly what this information triggers in his husband, it pushes the same fucking buttons for him. Both will never be able to forget the time when Terry 'Monster' Milkovich knocked up his own daughter! "The fuck happened? That why you left so early this morning?" 

He takes a big gulp of his beer, bringing back the events of today, "Yeah. She called. Needed help with something." Setting his beer aside, he scratches the side of his brow with his thumb. "Turns out this something was my fucking dad. He was drunk off his balls when he came home early mornin. Saw Sandy smoking in her pyjamas on a seat at the kitchen table and mumbled something like 'Gonna show you what you're missing, you pussy licking cunt.' when he walked up to her." Pale as the wall, both stared shell shocked at Mickey, waiting for him to get to the fucking relieving part of the story, "She stood up and with one quick shove, brought him stumbling to the ground. The motherfucker fell asleep instantly, laying on the same spot when I got there. Iggy and Colin are out of town, so she needed me to dump the asshole into the next dumpster. Which I did. The prick didn't even wake up." He downs the rest of the alcohol, preparing himself for the undoubtful shitstorm that's going to erupt over him like a downpour. 

Debbie still frozen in place, Ian is the first to explode. " _Motherfucker_ ," he spits, beginning to pace up and down in front of Mickey, the hectic movements already getting on his nerves, "I will kill him!"

Now Mickey is up, trying to bring him back to reality. "Ey, easy tough guy. Now _you_ calm your tits," he says, bringing Ian to a halt and into easier breathing. "You can't kill Terry Milkovich," he reminds his glowing husband, "You either get him to do something stupid that sends him back to prison or you wait till the fucker kills himself. That's all there is." 

"You could have easily killed him this morning," Debbie throws in, sounding mad that he didn't solve the problem right then and there. 

"Yeah, and get a bullet in my head one hour later from one of his confederates. Not happening, Debbie Longstocking. I wanna be married for longer than five fucking seconds, thank you." 

The redheaded girl shakes her head and stomps out of the kitchen, probably heading over to her girlfriend's, to get her out of the shithole. 

Grabbing himself a beer that Mickey allows in the heat of the situation, Ian takes a few gulps before setting it on the kitchen counter and stems one hand on his hip. "We should get kids," he snorts, appearantly thinking it would be a good fucking idea to throw this at him, now. "That could make him wanna kill himself." 

Ian may think he's funny, but Mickey honestly doesn't know which is the bigger horror scenario in his head, right now - his father being still alive, or them having a kid. 

For the sake of Ian's mood, he lets the statement pass unremarked. They have other things to focus on. Right now, it's Ian's dick he wants to give his full attention, or more precisely sit on it. That's why he drags his husband up the stairs and into their room, knowing exactly how to calm his man's frayed nerves. 

The second time it happens, they're in the kitchen again, eating breakfast before heading out for work. Ian is already chewing and slurping loudly on his goddamn Fruit Loops while sitting beside a scribbling Frannie around the table. Mickey's last cherry Poptart springs out of the toaster and he puts it on a plate, making his way over to the two gingers. 

"Look Uncle Ian, it's a cat," Fannie presents proudly, showing his man something that can't even be called a brown ball of wool. 

He peeks over her shoulder, setting his plate next to her paper and hears Ian schmoozing the kid about her great work. 

"Jesus, that's not a cat," he says, snatching the crayon out of her little, grabby hands and starts drawing the missing ears, paws, whiskers and tail. " _Now_ it's a cat." 

"Oh cool," Fannie yelps excitedly, "Thank you, Uncle Mickey!" 

One look at Ian and he finds the fucker beaming at him with happy puppy dog eyes. "Awwww Mick, look at you being a good dad!" 

"I'm... not her fucking dad," he scrunches his face in confusion, plopping down on the seat next to his still grinning husband. "You're hinting way too often at me banging your little sister. I don't know what kinky shit is happening in the pretty head of yours, but this is definitely _not happening_." 

Ian chuckles at that, shoving another spoon full of the sugary cereal into his mouth. "Nah," he says, milk dripping out of the corner of his mouth, letting Mickey wish he was this drop of lactose right now. "Don't wanna share you anyways. You're mine." 

With that, he eats another full spoon, his glowing smile never fading away. Mickey is happy he's finally on the same page with Ian, not forced to suppress his own building smile from spreading over his whole fucking face. Whatever makes Ian happy, makes him happy. Easy as that. 

Though he does try to ignore the not so sneaky message Ian sent him with this one. 

The next time, they're shopping through the mall together, trying to find a present for Fred's upcoming first birthday party. 

"The fuck would he do with that thing?" Mickey asks, pointing to the colorful wooden something with four wheels next to Ian's feet. 

The redhead smirks, "Learn how to walk. It's a baby walker, Mick." 

"He has two legs. Should learn how to walk like we all fucking did it. Stand up. Walk. End of the fucking story." 

When he finds Ian biting on his lips to hold back another one of his cute smiles while he nods at him, he gets that fluttery feeling in his stomach that only his ginger idiot can create. To not let his feelings overcome him right in the middle of Smyths Toys, he rants on, "And the fuck's that for?" He kicks against the multi colored wooden xylophone in front of the weird looking thing. "To play some sonata while thinking about whether to walk or not?" He doesn't even mention all the other useless buttons and things that're thrown randomly on this box with wheels. The thing is giving him a migraine just from looking at it. 

Ian shrugs, "Lip said Tammi wants one of 'em for Fred." 

"God damn it, they decided to stay in the fucking Southside, they should get their kid something from the fucking Southside to survive it. Like -" he waves his hand in front of Ian, flipping his fingers while thinking, "like a gun!" he declares proudly, confident about his own idea, "Let's get him a gun." When green eyes only widen in shock and pink lips purse, he adds, "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Gallagher. A plastic one." He rolls his eyes at the breath of relief that's coming out of Ian's mouth. "Believe me, other kids from our hood seeing this Oopie Doopie shit, he's fucked for life, whereas with a plastic Glock, he's a badass." 

"He is one." 

"Yeah, probably stays one with this fucking thing." 

Ian lets out a soft chuckle that Mickey soaks up with his whole being. Making Ian laugh is his most favorite thing on earth. He knew from the moment Ian planted this fucking thing in front of his feet, that his dorky husband wants it. He even doubts Lip initiated it, since Ian lays his whole heart in this uncle thing. He adores Freddie and Franny. Last night he even caught him on the internet, researching 'Educationally valuable toy for one-year-olds'. Tammi wants it, his ass! _Ian_ wants it. 

As for Mickey, when Ian wants his nephew playing with this 'educationally valuable toy', Mickey wants that shit, too. "Alright, whatever," he waves his hand in surrender, picking the cart up and carrying it through the aisles to the pay desk of the shop. "Let's pick one of these blue dresses up as well. Kid might wanna play Elsa from Frozen too then, eh?" 

"Falling asleep my ass. You _did_ watch it, Mick," Ian grins triumphant, interlocking their fingers on the way to the cashier. 

He doesn't even know how he ends up paying for that shit, but in the end, that's what he does. Ian flirting with him and whispering dirty things in his ear, while nibbling on his earlobe, distracted him long enough to pull out his cash card. He also ends up being the one carrying it through the whole mall while his husband stays almost attached to his hip on his side, hand in hand. 

When a travel agency appears on the left side of the aisle, Ian sighs dreamily and pulls him to the big window, fully paved with large advertisements of paradise. "Wish we could go somewhere like that for our honeymoon," he admits, looking at the posters from various beaches. 

Mickey stares at him, once again wishing he could fulfill his man's wishes, "We will," he reassures him, because it's true. He will work his ass off to get Ian to a beach like that and see his ass burning like a motherfucker. "Someday." 

The redhead locks his gaze dreamily, obviously thankful for Mickey's promise and leans down to peck him on the lips. He turns back to the window, while the brunet keeps watching him, noticing his eyebrows flying up. "Oh, look at that," he points to one of the exposed posters, "there's a family discount for that one." He turns back to Mickey, who immediately notices Ian scanning his face for any sign of resistance. "We should get a baby, so that we can travel there for cheap."

Mickey takes a sharp inhale of breath, his heart hammering in his chest, while he searches for a way to escape the actual issue. "Yeah," he starts, thumbing at the corner of his mouth, "cause that's how I wanna spend my honeymoon."

"Yeah, not like we're having kids anyway, right?!" Ian is grinning at his own words, trying to cover the hidden plead behind his question and starting to pull Mickey in the direction of the exit as a distraction from the importance of this topic for him. He probably thinks he's so sneaky, but _god_ , it's almost painful how obvious Ian is trying to manipulate him by bringing it up every chance he gets. In the corner of his eyes, Mickey sees him struggling for words, opening and closing his mouth, before, thankfully for Mickey, deciding to drop the topic. For _now_. "How you wanna spend our honeymoon then?" 

"On your dick, preferably," he retorts nonchalantly, as if that's not obvious by now, "24/7, if it's up to me." 

"Great," Ian smiles gently, pushing the door open to step into the bright sunlight with him, "honeymoon starts as soon as we're home, then." 

A week later, they make their way through a hardware store, looking for a sealing ring to repair the discharging pipe of the sink in the Gallagher kitchen. 

While they skim through the aisle of different sizes, they hear a couple bickering loudly in the corridor next to them. "Jesus Christ, men are so goddamn stubborn," the voice of a woman echoes along. "Just ask for help if you don't know the difference between these two pigments. I don't wanna color the crib with a toxic one. What if she's gonna nibble on it, huh, what then?" 

"Carrie," he warns, his tone sounding way too overtaxed, already, "would you please shut up just for once and let me do this on my own?!" 

"Yeah, cause that was also a good fucking idea when you first built the crib," she spits dramatically, "God it was so embarrassing when we had to ask our neighbor for help." 

"Bitch," Mickey comments quietly, finding Ian following the conversation in amusement, while the dude explodes on the other side of their aisle. "The fuck you're smiling for?" 

"I bet you look sexy building up a crib," he shrugs, resuming his search for the right ring, "and you'd definitely pick out the right color." 

The brunet clicks his tongue, staring at him nonplussed, when Ian turns around to face him, "Found it!" he says, strolling past his husband and letting the words hang there for a bit. 

The last time it happens, they are in the middle of a sexfest, Mickey riding Ian hard into the mattress, while Ian's fingernails dig deep into the flesh of his hips. 

It feels fucking amazing, having Ian balls deep inside of him, gyrating down on him and chasing that sweet spot for the electrifying pleasure that overcomes him with every jab against it. "Fuck, Ian, feels so good," he pants, his hands clasped tighter around Ian's kneecaps bent behind Mickey's back, Ian's thighs giving him the leverage he needs to shove himself back and forth, up and down. 

He sees Ian struggling to keep it together, knowing all too well that riding him is driving his husband fucking crazy. "Jesus Mickey, you're so hot. Not gonna last when you keep moving like that, _aah_!" 

Mickey's movements get faster, more haphazard, as he nears the edge with quick steps. He's torn between wanting to shoot his load all over Ian's constricting abs and never wanting their connection to end. Whenever Ian is in him, he feels strong, unstoppable, loved and alive. It's the best feeling in the world, being so full of Ian to not be able to think of anything else than his beautiful man right now. He isn't even ashamed a bit that he releases sob after sob, cry after cry, whine after whine. 

"Shut up," Ian pleads through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to hold his orgasm at bay. "Please Mickey, you're killing me here. You're so fucking sexy when you let go." 

Yeah, and letting go is the only thing he wants to do right now. He's not able to hold it back for much longer, the tingling and pricking spreading far too quick in his abdomen already. 

Ian's hands reach from his hips to his ass, spreading his cheeks even further and increasing the pressure and intensity by pressing his finger on his puckered hole, right where Ian slides in and out. "Jesus fucking Christ," he keens, overwhelmed from the sensitivity of it all and happy that his husband knows exactly what he needs and craves. He doesn't even need any more stimulation on his dick, rubbing over Ian's hard muscles is enough in addition to what's happening in and around his ass. The extra spread is ruining him slide after slide. "Gonna cum, Ian, it's too fucking much, can't hold it any longer," he whines, his hands reaching forward onto Ian's chest and nipples. The endorphins that shoot through his body like a tidal wave, make it almost impossible for him to move any longer. He's paralyzed from too much pleasure. Too much Ian. No. There can never be enough Ian inside of him. 

He wants to scream, wants to punch his own body to spring back to action, when his husband is once again there to catch him. He lifts his hips and starts pistioning inside of him, hitting his prostate dead on with every hard shove inside. " _Ian_ ," he yelps, his body already completely given itself over to Ian, who's happy to help. 

"I got you, baby. I got you," he moans, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace, Mickey close to blacking out, when he shoots his load and spasms above him. He feels himself clenching down on Ian, seeing the effect that's having on the other man. His eyes close shut, his brows knit in pleasure, his lips are parted and only emitting high pitched cries. He looks fucking beautiful, while he takes his last remaining energy to fuck into Mickey good and hard. "I love you so fucking much, Mickey, you're - Aaaaah - you're everything. _Fuck_. My fucking family. Jesus, yeah, yeah, _aaaah_. I wanna -" he spreads Mickey's asscheeks even wider while thrusting into his still convulsing heat, and Mickey knows he's one thrust from filling him up. He just has to clench around him one more time and - " _fuuuuuuck_ , I wanna have kids with you. Love you. God Mickey, I love you so -" 

In an instant the brunet jumps off that cock, seeing the last of Ian's semen hitting his own abs. "THE FUCK?!" he screams, scooting backwards until he sits at the end of the bed, Ian's wide, shocked eyes following him. "Did you just -" 

"Mickey," Ian props up and reaches out, "no, no, no, listen-" 

"Did you just really fucking say you wanna have kids while filling me up?" he pants exaggeratedly, his nostrils flaring from embarrassment, anger and irritation, "I'm not some fucking chick you can knock up, Ian! Christ!" 

"No," Ian cries desperately, scooting closer to him with all their cum still on his stomach. Mickey flinches away, "No, baby! This means nothing, I swear, it's.. it's like girls holding up banners at the concert of boybands, saying 'I wanna have kids with you' to their favorite band member. Like," he tries to talk himself out of it for dear life, looking like a fucking lost puppy no one can hold a grudge against longer than 20 fucking seconds. At least Mickey can't. "Like with Justin Timberlake. Girls wrote 'Justin, I want kids with you' on their banners -" 

"Yeah, _girls_." 

"And then went home to their actual boyfriends." 

"I... I don't know what the fuck you're saying," he rubs his forehead in confusion, too overwhelmed from the situation right now. "You're giving me a fucking migraine here, Gallagher." 

"That it's..just out of emotion," the redhead spills, touching his knee in a pleading gesture, before reaching for a tissue to wipe himself clean. 

"Out of emotion, huh?" he questions, taking one deep breath to calm fully down, "So, did your _girls_ bring posters and pens to the fucking concert to create a banner after listening to the music for the first half and recollecting their emotions?" he teases, shaking his head at the blushing mess in front of him, "Uh uh.. Your theory's not working here, Gallagher."

"No! I mean, yes," the redhead stammers, scratching the back of his bent neck, "I mean-" 

"Jesus Christ!" Mickey sighs, rubbing with his palms over his face, "Just nut the fuck up and tell me that you want a kid, god damn it!" 

Now it's Ian's turn to take a deep breath and straighten his back, both sitting with bent knees across from each other on the mattress. He locks their gaze. "Mickey, I want kids with you." 

The brunet's eyebrows shoot even higher. 

" _A_ kid. One. Singular," the younger one corrects himself quickly, his face pale as a polar bear. 

Mickey lets a sigh escape his lips. "Yeah, who would've thought, Mr. Secretive." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Not like I wouldn't have guessed it three weeks ago, already," he shrugs, finally moving his body to reach for the cigarettes on the nightstand. He takes one out, plugs it in his lips and lights it, leaning against the headboard and letting the nicotine release some of the pressure that's built within the last five minutes. 

"How.." Ian plops down next to him, accepting the cigarette that Mickey hands him over, "How did you notice?" 

"Oh please," Mickey glances at him, snatching the cigarette back and putting it between his lips to let it dangling there. "Adopting a baby to make Terry commit suicide? Telling me that I'd be a good father, whenever I'm around Franny or Freddie? Suggesting a family discount for our honeymoon? Saying I'd be able to build a solid crib for our baby? Come on, man. I don't have my GED, but I'm not _that_ dumb, Ian." 

"You're not dumb at all," the redhead counters quickly, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers. "So I'm that obvious, huh?" 

"I'm reading you like a fucking open book," Mickey retorts, inhaling the burning nicotine and creating a few smoking rings with the exhale. 

"So, what am I thinking now?" Ian questions with challenging eyebrows, observing him from aside. 

"That you're sorry." 

"And?" 

"That you want a baby." 

"And?" 

"I don't know," the brunet sighs, "that you have a serious problem with all the Justin Timberlake shit still going on in the red head of yours?" He shrugs, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand drawer. 

"Nope," Ian says, emphasizing the 'p', while a grin spreads over his whole face, "that I have the best fucking husband on the planet." 

Mickey chuckles, turning his face to watch him. "Why? I haven't agreed on anything, yet. You forget I already have a kid." 

The mention of Yevgeny pushes Ian to straighten his back, scooting closer and facing him fully, while their hands are still locked. "Yeah, and I love Yevy, you know that," he confesses, Mickey knowing that it's absolutely true, "I hate that he's so far away and we don't get to see him growing up." 

"Better far away, than here, though," he mumbles through gritted teeth, turning away to stare outside the window. 

"Why?" Mickey senses a layer of anger hovering over Ian's voice, "Because there he's safe from you?" 

"No!" Mickey shoots back, glaring at his husband, "There he's safe from Terry! You know him? The guy who wants us dead for liking dicks!" 

"Terry," Ian mocks, "Fuck Terry!" He lets a few silent moments pass, before continuing, "Right before the wedding you told me that you don't wanna let him win again, as always. Do you really want to let him take that from you? Having a family?" 

Mickey presses his tongue on the inside of his cheek, trying to stave off his impending emotions. It doesn't work, though. It never does with Ian. "What if I can't keep it safe, huh?" he mumbles quietly, not wanting to face the emerald green eyes he loves so much, "The baby? What if I can't keep _you_ safe? What then?" He bites down hard on his lips to will his tears away from falling. He doesn't want to picture a life without Ian. 

But the redhead lowers his head, forcing Mickey to lock their gaze and reaches out to cup his face. "I have a feeling that Terry is a demon inside your head for far too long already," He strokes his cheek with his thumb, "I know he's always been a monster. A bastard when you grew up," Ian admits, "But he became older, Mick. Weaker. Most of his confederates are dead or rotting away in prison and he's a fucking alcoholic. He isn't that strong anymore, Mickey," Ian speaks slowly to emphasize the message, to make Mickey understand the significance of his words. "Even Sandy can knock him out on her own. He doesn't have any power over you, Mick. Over us. Not anymore." With the brunet's head in his palms, he straightens Mickey's neck and connects their foreheads. He is sure, Ian can see the tears glistening in front of his blue irises as close as he is and as intensely his look. "Maybe it's my turn to keep _you_ safe. Make you feel safe." 

Ian's hot breath is fanning over his face, forming goosebumps all over his skin, even though he has to admit that it has more to do with his words, than his warm puffs of air. They shoot right through his chest and into the middle of his heart, filling him with a warmth and comfort he has never known in his life before Ian Gallagher. Cause that's how his life is divided into - the dark period of time that was years without Ian, and in fucking rainbow colored ones after he met him, where nothing has ever been the same anymore. The redhead made everything so much better. Made his life worth of living. He doesn't even need to think about, before saying, "I feel safe with you." 

Ian releases a breath of relief. "And do you trust me?" 

"Course I do." 

"Good," Ian states, detaching his forehead from Mickey's but still staying so close that their noses bump, "Cause I will _not_ let Terry get anywhere near you or our baby, Mick. You hear me?" 

Mickey presses the tip of his tongue in the right corner of his mouth, nodding once, before his lips curl slightly upwards. "Our baby, huh?" 

A shy smile blossoms at Ian's gorgeous, freckled face, his eyes becoming glossy. "Yeah. Only if you're in with me, of course," he reassures him, "Only if I have you. I won't pressure you, Mick. I'm not forcing you to do something you don-"

"You have me," Mickey interrupts Ian's stream of words, "Always had me, Gallagher," It's his concession to Ian, that there has never been a doubt in his life, that from second one, Ian owned him. Deep down, buried under all the angst of his psychotic father, he still knew he belonged to him. He couldn't let him go, no matter the circumstances. He was Ian's and Ian was his. And he won't let one single day go by, without Ian knowing that. He's going to work his ass of, to show him that. Even if that means, facing his biggest fear of expanding the only vulnerable spot in his life to another one. 

"So we're getting a baby?" Ian asks full of hope, his hands sliding down to Mickey's, to interlace their fingers again. 

"Yeah, Ian," he smiles, his heart hammering wildly at his husband's look full of happiness and love. It makes facing his inner demons not so bad at all, with a man like Ian on his side. He squeezes his hands and pulls him closer, ready to let their tongues mingle the way they long to do. But not before confessing, "We're getting a baby." 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what Ian and Mickey got Freddie as present, check this out:
> 
> https://images.app.goo.gl/aBmHZtf8EcVC8X9s7
> 
> Hope you had as much fun as I did.
> 
> If so, leave a kudo and/or a comment. I'd be very happy about it.  
> Come on, let's chit chat about it <3
> 
> xox, J.


End file.
